


The Dream That Forever Could Have Been

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [71]
Category: Chikara (Professional Wrestling), Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: (just alluded to), (the violence is not really mentioned though), Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Angsty fluff?, Ficlet, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Purple Prose, Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, aggressive affection, casual physical intimacy, obligatory Kevin Steen warning, stealth angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 18:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12753654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: With a second win under their belts, Team IWS advances to the next round of the rest of their lives...





	The Dream That Forever Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> How is everyone this fine day/night/whatever? I'm better than I have been in a while. I just got an extra day off every week, so more relaxation time for me. Which really just means more time spent frantically trying to wrangle this beast, put together that request fic, and then get lost in Fallout NV some more. I should probably prioritize better, but meh. I'm on a roll with Steenerico lately.
> 
> At least they get a happy ending in my Ambrollins fic for LuckyLucy92 ^.^
> 
> Translations at the bottom!

His heart races to the tune of those three precious seconds, the siren call of that crisp, clear bell reverberating around his skull as he pries himself up off the mat. He catches Kevin's eye, their gazes locking in tandem, their eyes clouded with mirror images of shock and disbelief.

Which Generico, on reflection, thinks is ridiculous.

They won their first match too. Why is it such a shock this time?

The audience does not seem shocked, at least. Generico does what he always does when he is confused.

He looks to the people to guide him.

The swell of the crowd and the crescendo of their roar, soaked in the luminescence of the freedom that comes from making the sweetest of magic side by side with the very person who gives you life…

Peace.

(it is what they whisper to him, through the rise of their voices and the muted screams of their happiness)

They always know what makes his soul sing, when he actually takes the time to listen.

It is almost strange, how peaceful it is, though perhaps peaceful is not the correct word. **Still** , is perhaps more appropriate, though nothing besides their bodies is still. There is an abundance of movement, all around them, from every direction, so much so that it is a bit of sensory overload. The moment is chaotic and frantic and manic, all of the fervor of wrestling condensed down to a single three seconds of one lonely match. They stand there, breathing labored, their hearts pounding in tandem as the shock of those three seconds wash over them.

It’s like fate.

Destiny?

El Generico has no words for this moment. He wonders, for a hysterical second, his mind swiveling like crazy as he tries unsuccessfully to absorb the significance of such an accomplishment, if he will ever find the words to describe this feeling. This ever present longing, this all encompassing _need_ for-

Comfort?

Happiness?

Validation?

Home?

For one overwhelming second, it is all So Much **_(too much)_** that Generic finds himself unable to think properly what with the confusing swarm of star-struck emotions filling him to the brim with pride, joy, and an almost unbearable ache.

Which confuses El Generico most of all.

Why would he _ache?_ This all at once feels like everything he could ever (or should ever) want out of life, while simultaneously feeling like nothing he would have ever possibly dreamed up for himself.

(not even in his wildest fantasies)

Standing here, in this ring, with Kevin.

Nothing will **ever** feel this…

-Complete-

-Preordained-

**_(undeserved)_ **

Wait~

“I feel like I’ve been waiting for this **_forever_** …”

El Generico can’t stop the way he stumbles forward, shocked into movement by those words. They are quiet, spoken in a whisper as if Kevin is sharing only the most classified of secrets with him. Even Kevin’s voice trembles when he speaks, like those very syllables have all the power of even the most devastating of neck-breakers.

He cannot help himself, and he does not want to, so he doesn’t. El Generico reaches out, clasping his hands around Kevin’s forearm, startling a bit at the rocked look in his friend's eyes when Kevin looks up. He supposes that he himself looks just as thrashed, but this feels more _real_. To see Kevin standing there, in the one place that he is usually **untouchable** , looking so lost and desperate.

(desperate for what..?)

-That is the pertinent question-

Whatever it is that Kevin is so in _**need** _ of, Generico will never know, because even as he opens his mouth (hoping with little confidence that he actually has enough breath to even get the question past his lips) Kevin is moving, wobbling on unsteady feet for only a heartbeat before they are both crashing to the mat, Generico going down under the weight of his heart.

Generico makes no effort to hold them up, assuming that even in his state, Kevin would not throw himself at an exhausted Generico and expect him to hold his weight.

Well.

El Generico has caught Kevin before.

Usually regardless of how gassed or not-gassed either of them were at the time.

(‘caught’ is probably the wrong word)

(more like ‘cushioned’)

~Hush~

“Mi amigo…”

“Fuck. Shut up for a second.”

Generico obliges his partner, gazing up into the blinding lights adorning the ceiling as he strokes a hand through Kevin’s sweaty hair, sighing as their heartbeats and breath sync up. Kevin makes a weird, distressed noise, then just buries his face deeper into Generico's neck with a second sound, this one a choked cry that is somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“Just let me… fuck. It’s just one **_meaningless_** …”

“No sin sentido…” Generico corrects, the words falling out of his mouth in defiance, before he can remind himself that Kevin is very tired and probably hurt, to be talking this way at all.

(Kevin would never speak This Way otherwise)

(not about… _these things_ )

The Them Things.

The Together Things.

“Es todo lo que tenemos.”

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus. 'Gassed', can you believe my inconsistent ass? Next thing you know, I'll be talking about receipts and backstage-politicking. Eh, oh well. I am never sure exactly how much insider-lingo is allowed in a kayfabe compliant fic. I usually try not to drop those phrases in, but whatever. This series is all strange and meta at this point anyway. Besides, surely at least SOME of the behind the scenes stuff would leak into the cannon. I mean, that has happened before so I am not that far off here.
> 
> Translations!
> 
> Ya'll know what 'mi amigo' means by now.  
> No sin sentido~ a poorly worded way of saying 'it is not meaningless'  
> es todo lo que tenemos~ it is all we have


End file.
